Trick or Treat
by SnazzinessRules
Summary: Ruth's not a big fan of Halloween, and she's certainly not enjoying this one so far. Can circumstances change and make it more of a treat for her? Mainly T rated but a rating increase in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Spooks is property of Kudos. No copywright infringement is intended. This fiction is for fun and not profit.  
**

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"BOO!" yelled Adam and Zaf, in unison, for at least the seventh time that day. Ruth, again for the seventh time, jumped clean out of her skin.

"Oh will you two cut it out and grow up!" she muttered, impatiently. "You're not 5 years old and it is not funny anymore!"

"Oh relax, Ruth. Zaf and I aren't here tomorrow and we just want to have a bit of Halloween fun."

"I think the plastic spiders in people's drawers and the skeleton which popped out of the stationary cupboard were quite enough though," she sighed, wearily.

"Spoilsport," one of them muttered. She wasn't sure which, and shot them both an angry glare before stomping off to her desk.

She had only been seated about ten minutes when the lights went off, and two torch-lit faces revealed themselves from behind a partition.

"For goodness sake!" moaned Ruth. "Turn them back on."

She was joined in her chorus by Malcolm, who appeared from the other end of the office, initially bemoaning the state of the electrics in the building before coming face to face with two rather smug looking young men.

"You'll be sorry if Harry comes back from his meeting right now," Ruth warned.

They shrugged, nonchalantly and Zaf made a display of swooping around the desks, his face still partially illuminated, creating deep shadows by his eyes.

Jo, typically, giggled at Zaf's behaviour.

"A looong tiiiiime agooo," he began, "a woman lived deep in the forest in a tiny cottage and sold herbal remedies for a living. Folks living in the town nearby called her Bloody Mary, and said she was a witch. None _dared_ cross the old crone for fear that their cows would go dry, their food-stores would rot away before winter, their children would take sick with fever, or any number of terrible things that an angry witch could do to-"

He stopped, abruptly. The lights were back on and the brunette woman with her hand on the switch was not Ruth, but Juliet.

"Bloody hell," laughed Adam, ignoring the steely disapproval he was met with. "I didn't know those sorts of stories came true mate." He nodded is head at Juliet and the three youngest members of the team sniggered.

Juliet winced at the sound and tried to calmly collect her thoughts by counting to ten. "I don't think I'm even going to ask. Suffice to say I'm looking for Harry, I assume he isn't here and I now have one more thing on my list of things to tell him when I find him."

"How long is the list and how long is it likely to take?" asked the unimpressed man that had silently appeared behind her.

"That depends on how nice you are to me," she responded, a hint of flirtation in her voice, which irritated Ruth more than she thought it probably should have done.

Harry merely gave Juliet an exasperated look and headed for his office, not caring if she followed or not. At his movement, the rest of the team hurriedly moved back to their desks and resumed working.

By the time Juliet had paced across Harry's office for the seventh time, Ruth had had enough. She was full of irrational hatred towards the woman and, on top of that, Adam and Zaf's sulking muttering about was driving her crazy.

"I'm off," she announced, even though it was barely half past five. "I'm not listening to any more nonsense."

"Don't you believe in it even a tiny bit?"

"No. Ghosts and ghouls and goblins…we fight terrorism every day, why would we possibly want to celebrate a day which promotes fear, especially when it's not even true!"

She managed to collect her belonging and make it to the pods before they had a chance to reply, and bundled herself into the glass cylinder feeling thoroughly narked with it all. _Ah well_, she thought, _at least they're out off the Grid tomorrow_.

They _may_ have been off the Grid but, by the end of Friday, the day had been suitably nightmarish that she was beginning to think it would have made little difference whether they were there to wind her up or not. She had thrown her morning coffee down her blouse, been caught by both Miranda and the puppy dog researcher who had taken to stalking her in two consecutive lift journeys, had had to endure Juliet arriving twice and, most disappointing of all, had not had any chance at all to talk to Harry. To top it off, however, she had just ended a call with her best friend from uni and had found herself invited to the fancy dress Halloween party of her 6 year old Godson.

That was all she needed - a mad dash across London to find a costume, followed by an evening spent in the company of a bunch of hyperactive six year olds. Lovely. Cursing fluently under her breath about 'emotional blackmail' and 'sodding Halloween', she hastily printed off a list of fancy dress shops, gathered up her belongings and snuck off the Grid early.

It had taken the best part of two hours to find a costume and even then she wasn't happy about the one she had eventually agreed to hire. She hadn't really had much of a choice though; all the good stuff had been snapped up weeks earlier and so she had been left with choosing between an enormous padded pumpkin suit or a giant spider outfit, complete with fake, hairy legs. The pumpkin outfit had immediately got her vote as the better option of the two and she had taken it to the counter and paid for it before she could talk herself out of it altogether.

Her struggle to get the costume and her hastily bought treats for the party goers home on the bus did nothing to help put her in a better mood and by the time she launched herself through her front door and dumped the costume at the bottom of the stairs she had had about as much of Halloween as she could take. She had a good mind to ring Sophie and tell her that something urgent had come up but the thought of her Godson's disappointed face stopped her from going through with it. Instead, she headed to the kitchen for a small glass of well deserved wine. She couldn't put her finger on it but the instant she stepped foot inside the kitchen something seemed...wrong. A quick scan revealed nothing to her and she shrugged it off. As she strode towards the fridge, she spotted the light flashing on her answer machine. Praying it was Sophie letting her off tonight, she hit play and listened to the automated voice telling her she had two new messages.

The first message was indeed Sophie but, much to Ruth's chagrin, it was to tell her how excited Jake was about Auntie Ruth coming to his party. Cursing, she wrenched open the fridge door and reached for the bottle of chilled white wine. She was just musing over the contents of her fridge and debating the merits of a quick sandwich versus last night's left over pasta, when the second message began to play. At first it just seemed to be a lot of static on the other end and Ruth paid it little attention, until her name was said quite clearly in the midst of it all. She craned her neck around the side of the fridge and stared quizzically at the machine as the same, slightly hissing, voice said her name over and over again.

She jumped when the machine beeped loudly to signal that the message had ended and realised just how tightly she was gripping on to the fridge door. She could feel her heart thumping loudly in her chest and, although she had no desire to listen to the eerie message again, she found herself crossing back over to the machine and hitting play again. If anything, it was slightly more disturbing the second time around because she was listening to it more intently, trying to figure out who the person on the other end was. By the fourth repeat of the message, she had calmed slightly and was considering just deleting it when there was a thud from upstairs.

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	2. Chapter 2

**An update already! **

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Cautiously, and clutching a bread knife and a saucepan, Ruth made her way up the stairs. She had deliberated on whether or not it was the sensible thing to do but, reasoning that she had two very mischievous cats about the house, she had decided to be 'brave' and check it out. Not that she felt brave as her hands trembled and the saucepan clattered against the banister as she clambered up stairs.

"Fidg? Rascal?" she called, very quietly as she stepped onto the landing. There was no reply…not that she expected a _reply_ exactly, but there was no response what so ever, not even a purr or a stirring of movement.

Cautiously, she rounded the end of the banister; _the bathroom door_, she half thought, half whispered. It was shut to, and she knew she hadn't left it like that. She squeezed her eyes shut, readjusted the bread knife so that she could gain purchase on the door handle, and pushed it wide open in a dramatic move, as it if might startle whoever lurked behind it.

Nothing.

Nobody there.

Just the open window and the blinds swaying in the breeze.

"It just blew shut," she sighed. "The door just blew shut." She tried to quell the nagging doubt that asked her why she would have left a window open in the midst of a bitter autumn.

She placed the knife inside the saucepan and took a moment to calm her nerves back down again, sitting with a heavy thud on the edge of the bath. Slightly more composed, and feeling more than a little daft at being so jumpy, Ruth spared a thought for the cats and wondered where they had got to. It was odd that they hadn't greeted her when she came home; normally she could barely move across the kitchen for them getting under her feet wanting to be fed and fussed over. Puzzled, she left the bathroom and called them both.

"Fidget? Rascal? Boys? Mummy's here," she called, poised on the landing as she waited for an indication of where they might be. Her hand reached for the landing light and flicked it on, illuminating the dark hallway and making her heart jump into her throat again as she saw that her bedroom door was partially open. She never left it open. Ever. Not since she'd found Fidget in there scratching and clawing at the new carpet she'd had fitted. Slowly, she tiptoed towards her bedroom. She paused for a moment as she reached out for the door handle, ear almost pressed against the wood as she tried to peer through the small gap into her shadowy bedroom. Seeing nothing she summoned her courage and swept the door open, dramatically, and flicked the light on.

As her eyes grew accustomed to the extra light she heard the echo of her own war cry filter down the hall and gave a small nervous laugh at the sound of it. Her eyes scanned the room quickly and she drew a sharp breath as she saw movement under the bed.

"Oh Fidg! You almost gave me a heart attack," she scolded the cat that was now staring out at her from under the bed. "What are you doing under there? Come on, out you come." She got on her knees and coaxed the feline out of its cosy hiding place, slightly worried when he seemed a little reluctant to come out into the open. Essentially dragging him the last of the way out, she bundled him into her arms like a baby and snuggled him close to her. "What's wrong with you silly? Hmm?" she asked as she cradled him, "Shall I get changed and then we can go and find your brother?"

She set Fidget down, gently, and the usually more independent of her two cats immediately twinned itself between her legs and pawed at her shins. "Come on, Mummy has to grab her silly costume and put it on, don't trip me up, please. I won't be long."

Proving a point, she dashed downstairs, grabbed the oversized bag, and bundled it all back upstairs in an instant, and was already in the process of slipping herself into her black opaque tights before Fidget got in the way again.

"Fidget, if you ladder these tights, so help me God, I will bath you…using shampoo!"

She wasn't entirely sure whether he had understood or whether it was her tone of voice, but he nevertheless sulked off to one side for a moment while Ruth dragged her costume over the top of her tights and fumbled behind her back for the zipper.

"Great," she muttered, "I'm a 35 year old pumpkin with two cats for company. Speaking of which," she added, scooping a petulant Fidget back up, "where's the other little tinker? No doubt he's got into mischief some-" she froze. As she had turned to leave the room once more, her gaze had fallen on the bedside table and in an instant she knew that something was missing. Her alarm clock, the picture of her father, the phone and her bedside lamp were all present and accounted for but the book she was reading – the one she had read a small section of every night since it was given to her as a gift – was nowhere to be seen.

The cat meowed its objection to being squeezed so tightly, jumped out of her arms and scurried out of the bedroom as fast as his little legs could carry him. Scared and with no desire to search the rest of the house on her own Ruth reached for the phone and dialled a familiar number.

"Yes?"

"H-Harry..."she whispered, her voice wobbling at the sound of his strong, reassuring voice.

He was instantly alert. "Ruth? What's wrong?"

"Um…" What was wrong? In truth, she didn't exactly know what she was going to tell him. _Oh, er, nothing much; my over active imagination has got the better of me and now I can't find my single most treasured possession, the book you gave me which always rests in the exact same spot right next to my bed._ Hmm, possibly not. "Something's not right…in the house."

"Stay put, I'm coming right over." He had put the phone down before she could reply, and she was somewhat comforted by the vision of him striding purposefully and urgently out of the house.

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**More soon...hopefully!**


	3. Chapter 3

He was seemingly knocking at her front door within minutes but it was, she realised, almost half an hour, and the time had only elapsed so quickly through a combination of nervous pacing across her bedroom coupled with jumping out of her skin at the slightest noise and flights of fancy involving Harry as her knight in shinning armour. In fact, it had gone so much quicker than she anticipated that it wasn't until she had trouble negotiating the narrow stair case that she realised she was still dressed as a pumpkin.

"Bugger," she cursed, and did an on the spot, round and round dance at the top of the stairs as she debated whether to quickly wriggle out of it and into some normal clothes, in the vain hope that she could at least _try _and appear sane before telling him about her bizarre evening.

The knocking continued, this time accompanied by an anxious call of her name.

"I'm coming. I'm…I'm ok." Damn it, she was going to have to let him see her like this and, after all, she still had the party to attend.

She bundled herself down the stairs, somewhat ridiculously straightened her pumpkin, as if might make her vaguely more presentable, and opened the door, leaving it on the chain still.

"Ruth? What's going on? Why aren't you letting me in?"

"You have to promise not to laugh…"

"At what? We all get a little scared sometimes, Ruth. Hopefully it'll come to nothing but I certainly won't laugh."

"I mean at my outfit."

"You're outfit? Ruth, I-"

"I'm a pumpkin."

Involuntarily, the beginnings of a laugh made it as far as the top of Harry's throat before he could gulp it back down.

"See, you're laughing," she protested. "And I already feel stupid enough."

"Sorry, Ruth, but it wasn't quite the statement I'd been expecting. Please let me in."

She pulled a face and lifted the chain to let him in; to his credit, he did his damndest to ignore her appearance and carry on as normal although she couldn't help but notice that his eyes, in an effort to avoid staring at the giant orange blob, were intently focused on her legs, which were clad only in tights from hip to toe.

"So, erm, what's the problem?" he asked, slightly distracted by how long and slender her legs looked.

"I-I think it might be haunted."

His head snapped up instantly and she was met with a look which informed her that he thought she had lost the plot. "Haunted?"

"I know it sounds ridiculous but someone was whispering my name on the phone and then there was banging upstairs because the bathroom window was open – but I didn't open it and, and..." she trailed off from her rambled explanation, suddenly aware that she _really_ didn't want to tell him about the missing book.

"And?"

"It was in my room," she told him.

For a fleeting moment he looked stunned. "You, er, you _saw_ something?"

"Yes. Well, no, not exactly, um..."

"Ruth," the sound of her name in his commanding tone was enough to make her come clean.

"Something is missing from my bedside table, so it's been in my room."

He rolled his eyes at her. "Will you please stop calling it 'it', there's no such thing as ghosts, Ruth. You probably just misplaced it, that's all. What was it?"

"Um, a b-book."

"Well you probably moved it without thinking, as for the-"

"No," she interjected, "you don't understand, Harry. I _never_ move it from the bedside table. It's always there, within reach."

"The same book? And here was me thinking you were well read," he teased, trying to lighten the mood a little.

"Yes," she whispered, blushing, and lowered her gaze to the floor, "I-I, it was a gift and it's very dear to me."

It didn't take long for Harry to realise which book she was referring to and tried not to smile too widely at the knowledge that she kept his gift next to her bed. A loud creaking interrupted Harry's thoughts and his gaze snapped first towards the kitchen, where the noise came from, and then to Ruth. He could see the tension in her body and silently raised his index finger to his lips, before turning and moving stealthily down the hallway. His silent approach to the kitchen door was hindered slightly when Ruth tripped over her own feet as she followed behind him.

"Shit!" she cursed, louder than she meant to, and instantly looked contrite when Harry whipped round and shot her an incredulous look. "Sorry," she mouthed and gave him an embarrassed little smile.

Another noise, this time a sort of scuffling, reminded them both what they were doing and Harry reached out for the door handle. He gingerly twisted the knob and slowly inched the door open. In the semi-darkness of the silent hallway, Harry was acutely aware of Ruth's heavy breathing; she was plainly a little fearful and, although he would never admit it to anyone, some of her nerves were starting to rub off on him. The door creaked open, slowly, and Harry gave a quick glance over his shoulder before he opened it fully.

"Aaah!" he yelped, surprised, as a black shape launched itself at him. Harry's cry made Ruth jump and, without thinking, she pressed herself as close to his back as she could manage in her bulky costume and gripped onto his arm.

"Harry?"

"Jesus Christ!" he exclaimed, panting slightly, and glaring at the small cat that snaked its way past them and out of the door. "Bloody cat," he grumbled and was alarmed when he felt Ruth shaking against him. Worried, he looked over his shoulder at her and was relieved to find her laughing. It proved to be infectious and soon he was chuckling along with her, feeling completely ridiculous at having being scared by the cat.

"Tell anyone about this and I'll personally make sure that everyone finds out about the pumpkin outfit," he growled, playfully.

"Deal."

"Right, come on," he whispered, "let's check this out and reassure you that there's nothing going on."

He took one step forward and flicked on the light switch, throwing the room into illumination.

"See, nobody's here, nothing damaged, no open windows."

"The wine. The wine's not right." She pointed to the last of a bottle of white, and an almost-full glass.

"Ruth, I'd venture to say if you've had that much of the bottle, it's not the wine that's not right," he teased.

"I'm serious," she pouted, "and if you must know, I opened it yesterday. I didn't leave them next to the draining board, they were over there on the side underneath the…"

She stopped, suddenly.

"Underneath the what, Ruth?" He was aware that she was staring at something beyond his left shoulder but, as silly as it was, he was a little apprehensive about turning round.

"Underneath that," she gulped, and a trembling finger pointed his gaze in the right direction.

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**Thanks for reading - please review.  
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**xx**


	4. Chapter 4

**Getting further from Halloween and closer to Xmas, but oh well, there's still more...**

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He turned around, slowly, his gaze immediately drawn to the chalk notice board that hung on the wall opposite. White, dusty letters were engraved repeatedly across the entire board spelling out just two words over and over again. _Red Rum, Red Rum, Red Rum._

"Harry, t-that wasn't there before, I'm sure of it."

He heard the tremor in her voice and turned back to face her. His hand reached out and stroked her arm as he tried to reassure her. "Sssh don't fret, I won't let anything happen to you," he soothed, "I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for it all."

"Like what?"

_Like someone we know is winding you up. _"I'm not certain yet," he said, vaguely, and smoothed his hand down her arm until he clasped her hand in his. "Come on, let's check the rest of the house out."

Whatever protest she had been forming with regards to his lack of answer was forgotten when his warm fingers threaded through hers. "Ok," she agreed, meekly, and allowed him to lead her out of the kitchen. She was far too busy looking out of other 'signs' to notice Harry stealthily pull his phone from his pocket. His fingers moved swiftly over the keys and he was thankful for predictive text as it wasn't easy to walk up a flight of stairs and send a text message with only one hand free. He hit send as he reached the landing and swiftly slid his phone back into place.

"Tell me what happened."

She recounted the whole story for him, leaving out the part about brandishing a sauce pan and a breadknife like a lunatic, only to be caught out when he spotted the offending items in the bathroom.

His lips twitched and, when he spoke, she could hear the amusement in his voice. "Interesting weapons to defeat a ghost, Ruth."

She rolled her eyes at him. "I was all out of holy water," she replied, deadpan, causing him to laugh loudly. "Anyway," she cut across his laughter, eager to move on, "I thought it might have been an intruder at first."

He sobered slightly as he was reminded that she had been genuinely afraid. _He_ might have figured out who was behind all the evening's trickery but she didn't know about his suspicions yet so it really wasn't fair to tease her about her actions. "Shall we go into the bedroom then?" he asked, eager to move on, and only realised at her startled look how his question may have sounded more like a proposition. "To, er, to make sure it's safe. Not to, um, not for...anything else..."

She nodded and followed, trying to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other rather than blushing.

"So, what's been going on in here then?" he asked

"Excuse me?"

He immediately realised just how badly he'd phrased the question. "I meant tonight. I meant with the," he took a deep pause and mentally shouted at himself extremely loudly for being so verbally clumsy. "Oh for goodness sake," he sighed, before softening his voice to a gentle whisper. "What's all this about the book?"

"I…I don't want to say."

"Why, Ruth?"

"You know why."

"Because it was my book?"

She nodded, sheepishly.

"I'm glad you like it," he murmured, taking a step towards her in the dim light of the bedside lamp.

Her eyes fluttered into a series of involuntary, over-long blinks and she felt her chest tighten as her breathing seemed to slow to nothing. "Uh huh," she just about squeaked in acknowledgement. He moved a little closer still, smiling gently at how adorable she was, and this time her eyes closed, lightly, and she was aware that her head had almost imperceptibly tilted and that she had parted her lips a little in anticipation.

She could feel his sweet, warm breath tickle her lips and she knew how close he must be. Her lips fell wider apart and her tongue rested against the edge of her teeth as she waited for his mouth to touch hers. Nothing happened, and she felt his breath again, then, next to her ear, and was almost certain he was about to kiss her neck.

"Sssh," he whispered, his lips deliberately connecting with the curve of her ear. "Follow me."

She nodded, dumbly, still too dazed and drugged by his proximity to think clearly, and half wondering if this was some wonderful game he was playing with her. She was about to open her mouth to ask when he pressed a finger to it, leaving it lingering there while his eyes silently told her to keep quite.

"Downstairs," he mouthed, pointing. "Kitchen."

Her shoulders sagged a little, somewhat frustrated that this wasn't all part of some grander seduction and disappointed to be back in somewhat haunted reality.

He smiled at her, softly and sympathetically, simply nodding to signal that he understood, too.

He moved quickly, lighter and quieter on his feet that she would ever have imagined of him, and she struggled to keep up behind him at such a pace without tripping herself up or banging around unnecessarily. Still, however, as he silently and hurriedly flung back the kitchen door, he was disappointed to not find the two young men he had hoped to catch.

"Harry?" she asked, finally, as he gave a loud groan.

"They're not here," he sighed.

"Who?"

"Adam and Zaf."

"Why would they…? You think it's them?"

"Yes, Ruth. I think you've been the subject of a horrible prank."

"It can't be-"she protested only to trail off as her gaze caught hold of something else. Something far less sinister than anything else that evening but it was still enough to give her pause.

"Ruth?"

"I'm going to bloody well kill them!" she exclaimed, pushing past Harry and storming over to the fridge, and looking at the fridge magnets that had miraculously appeared on the door. She blushed violently as she realised what the letters spelt out and wondered how she could get rid of the message before Harry saw it too.

"R4HIDST," he murmured from behind her. He was so close she could feel the heat from his body against her back but she was unable to enjoy the sensation fully for fear of his reaction. "Is it some sort of code?"

She could hardly believe her luck that he didn't appear to understand. "No, it's just gibberish," she lied.

"Funny," he whispered, directly into her ear as his hands firmly grasped her waist, "I'd swear it says you fancy me."

He knew. He knew and he was snaking his arms around her waist and pulling her against him, resting his head against hers. She could hardly breathe and her heart was beating so wildly she thought she might pass out but she needed to know, she needed to ask, what this meant.

"Harry," she whispered, shakily, "earlier, upstairs…"

"I would have kissed you if I hadn't heard them."

She swallowed, audibly, and drew breath before she turned in his arms and looked into his eyes.

"I still wanted to," he whispered, his lips touching hers as he spoke, "except I knew I wouldn't have stopped."

"A-and now?" she managed to mumble, as his mouth began to softly toy with hers.

"I won't stop unless you tell me to."


	5. Chapter 5

**Ooooh a shiny new update :) Not much longer to go...**

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His eyes held all manner of promises as he closed the gap between them and brushed his soft, plump lips against hers. Her eyelids fluttered shut as he repeated the move, once, twice, three times until she moved her mouth against his, her lips sliding between his as her arms reached up and twined around his neck. His tongue tickled her lips as he lightly traced it over the seam of her lips, encouraging them to part. Their soft, exploratory kisses turned into something far more intimate and intense until both surrendered to it completely.

The shrill ring of the telephone was initially ignored but by the third call Ruth reluctantly parted from him. "I, um," she paused and licked her lips, and took a moment to catch her breath. "That'll be my friend," she muttered, a little flustered. "I'm supposed to be at a party."

"Oh, really," he smirked, "and there I was, labouring under the misapprehension that this was all for my benefit."

She rolled her eyes before becoming suddenly more serious. "Harry..."

"Ruth," he whispered, trailing a gentle finger across her cheekbone, "Can't you put her off?"

"It's Jake," she stated, as if that explained all.

"Oh." To say he looked crestfallen was an understatement. "Jake?"

"Oh God, no...no! He's my six year old Godson." She had begun to launch into a full blown rambling apology when, from nowhere, his lips met hers again.

She raised her eyebrows in surprise as he pulled away.

"What?" he asked, gruffly, "I'm bloody relieved."

"I'm sorry," she laughed, nervously. "I'm sorry." Her hands busied themselves with one button of his jacket and she studied her fingers closely to avoid having to meet the intensity of the gaze she knew was upon her.

"Do you think they'd mind an extra guest?"

This time her head snapped right up. "Harry?"

He shrugged. "Ruth, I've finally just kissed you – believe it or not, a six year old's Halloween Party is one of the lesser obstacles we've faced coming between us."

She smiled, warmly and surprised herself by reaching up to plant an affectionate kiss on his unsuspecting lips.

"Do I need a costume?"

"Well, unless you're going as a newsreader," she mocked, and his eyes widened in feigned offence.

"I do not look like a newsreader!"

"I might find newsreaders attractive, Harry."

"Really?"

"Mmm, that Fiona Bruce is a minx," she teased, trying to wink, but failing through her laughter.

"Ruth, you making jokes like that is really not putting anything sensible in my head and it's certainly not making me in a hurry to leave for a children's party."

"Harry!" she protested, blushing at her imaginings of _his_ imaginings.

"You started it."

"Oh for goodness sake, just come upstairs!"

Harry's face looked like a cross between a startled rabbit and someone who had just found out Christmas would be early this year.

"No! I mean, well, yes, come upstairs, but I mean to sort a costume out, not to, you know…not that that wouldn't be…nice," she finished, lamely.

He leaned in closely, pressing his body against hers and positioning his mouth right next to her ear. "Not 'nice', Ruth. _Much_ more than 'nice'," he whispered, before striding right by her and ascending the stairs. "Come on then; although if you're expecting me to put your clothes on, you've got the wrong kind of costume in mind."

--

"Yes, that's it! Keep your lips like that, Harry. No, no, I can't…quite…"

"I suppose it's easier when you're doing it to yourself," he half observed, half questioned.

"Yes, I know just how to do it, then, but that's not _this_. It's not every day I do this, Harry. I just…I can't get the angle right and you keep moving your mouth."

"Does it matter, Ruth? Nobody's going to notice Dracula's lipstick blood-trail is a little wonky on one side."

"Well if you hadn't talked, it wouldn't be wonky!"

"I wasn't talking, I was laughing because it tickled."

"Shut up," she muttered, affectionately, before sweeping dark shadow in a full circle around his eyes, contrasting with the excessive powder she'd already put across the rest of his face.

She stood back to admire her work, then stepped forward again to stand his buttoned up, tie-less collar on end.

"That'll do," she announced. "We'll stop at the newsagents and get you some of those cheap glow in the dark fangs."

"Glow in the dark?" he tutted. "It's no fun if you see me coming for you."

--

"I'm so glad we got a taxi here," Harry stated as they stood on the pavement in a quiet cul-de-sac.

"Why?" she asked, distractedly, as she rearranged her costume.

"I had visions of you insisting we catch the bus, and, as much as I love you," he murmured as he caught her fidgeting hands in his and pulled her to him, "that would have been a step too far."

"Harry, I barely fitted into the car like this! Can you imagine me trying to squeeze onto a bus seat?"

Evidently, he could, as an immediate and infectious chuckle escaped him. "Actually, can we get the bus home? I think I'd like to see that!"

She pouted at him. "Just for that I might make you walk home."

He gave a brief laugh and captured her pouting lips with his own, kissing her with a quiet insistence until she had completely forgotten about her costume. "We're being watched," he told her, slightly amused, as they parted.

She caught a brief glimpse of a small, familiar looking, boy in a devil's outfit disappearing through the front door of the house and wondered why Jake hadn't come to say hello. She exchanged a puzzled glance with Harry and followed after the young boy.

They had just reached the front door when it was wrenched open and Jake appeared, dragging his Mum along behind him. "Jake! Stop dragging me; I'm sure Auntie Ruth is fine," she stopped short when she saw Ruth and Harry on the doorstep. "Oh, hello!"

"Hi, what's going on?"

Sophie opened her mouth to explain but Jake beat her to it. "He was going to bite you!" he said, pointing to Harry. "I went to get Mummy so we could save you."

"Biting?! Oh!" she suddenly realised that Jake must have seen them kissing and had got confused. "Thank you sweetheart but he wouldn't bite me, he's my friend."

"Does your friend have a name?" Sophie asked, amused and intrigued as to who Ruth's mystery man was.

"Er, um," Ruth swallowed, blushing, "Harry."

"Nice to meet you, 'er, um, Harry'," Sophie teased.

"Nice to meet you, too. Sophie, I presume."

The young woman nodded, and gestured them both inside, hanging back until Harry had passed her and she could grab Ruth's arm.

"You appear to be wearing half of Dracula's make up around your mouth," she observed, wryly.

Ruth blushed violently, to the point that her smudgy red lips blended with the rest of her face.

"And if you want to sneak off early and play with the vampire's stake …"

"Sophie!!"

"What? I'm just saying I'll understand if you want to go and play vampires. I'd want to make him rise up…" she paused, cheekily, and then innocently added, "from the dead, of course."

"I can't even look you in the eye right now," Ruth groaned. "Please stop."

"Ruth?" Harry had reappeared in the doorway, evidently wondering where the two women had got to.

"Um."

"I'll leave you two to it," Sophie winked, and retreated.

"What was that about?" Harry asked.

"Er, nothing!" she squeaked, a little too high pitched.

"Ruth…" he purred.

"She was just making comments, Harry," she sighed.

"Comments?"

"Suggestive comments."

"Oh," he exclaimed, raising one eyebrow, "I think you'll have to tell me about those!"

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**More soonish ;) **


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry for the delay!!! On the plus side, when we said, 2 chapters ago, that there were only 2 more chapters....we were very wrong!!**

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"Thanks for doing this," she whispered, softly, and caught a glimpse of him looking at her questioningly as the headlights of a passing car went by. "Tonight. The party – I mean."

His hand reached over and squeezed her knee. "You don't have to thank me. I've enjoyed it. It wasn't exactly the first date I had in mind for us but I wouldn't have wanted to miss you bobbing for apples for the world!"

"I got the apple didn't I?" she huffed, in mock annoyance.

"Yes," he agreed and swept a lock of very wet hair behind her ear, "but I did worry that I was going to have to save you from drowning."

"Don't tell me you wouldn't enjoy giving me the kiss of life, Harry."

His laughter reverberated around the back of the cab and she delighted in the sound of it. "Touché," he murmured against her ear, making her shudder in response.

"Are you, um, are you coming back to mine?" she muttered, hurriedly.

"Are you asking me?"

She was quiet for a long moment, and Harry began to speak again. "Ruth, if you're unsure ab-"

"No. No. I mean no I'm not unsure and yes…I think I am inviting you."

He smiled, warmly, sensing how out of character she felt about asking him, and just nodded. It was enough to tell her everything; that she could invite him back and still not have to fear his expectations, that he would be a gentleman…at least when called for.

She was saved any further discussion when the taxi pulled up outside her house. A small tussle ensued during which both of them tried to pay for the cab and Ruth grumbled good naturedly as her costume prevented her from passing the money through the small window quick enough.

"Come on," he said, amusement plainly evident in his voice, as he leant over and opened the door for her. "Let's get you inside and out of that costume."

However innocent he had said the words, there was no denying the suggestiveness of them, and he cringed at his own stupidity. "I, er, that wasn't um..."

Amazingly, she gave a brief, warm laugh and dared to look at him. "I love that you're just as bad at this as I am, Harry. It gives me hope."

Her honest response had stunned him and, as such, all he could do was look at her and smile. The not so discreet cough of the impatient driver reminded them both of where they were and, without another word, they left the taxi and walked towards the house together.

--

"Drink? Um, wine, whiskey, er, tea…" Ruth continued to call out a random assortment of drinks while her head buried itself further and further into her cupboards.

"Why don't we go and sit down and just chat?" he suggested, calmly, trying to dissolve the nervous tension.

She nodded, and was treated to the somewhat bizarre role reversal of being shepherded through her own home until they were both sat, knees touching, on her sofa.

"I'm, um…I'm just going to go and scrub all this make-up off my face, Ruth. It's making me feel a little out of sorts." He stood and left, and she listened to the thudding as he ascended her stairs and made his way into the bathroom.

She sighed, loudly, and pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers as she tried to make sense of what was happening. Somehow, now that they were here, and everything else had been stripped away – the 'hauntings', the party, the guests, the taxi driver – the focus upon themselves was surprisingly intense and awkward.

He re-entered, quietly, face reddened from the scrubbing and the residual stain of bright lipstick, and sat down next to her.

"So, drink?" she repeated, again, eventually, desperate to break the silence. She began to stand, ready to get one anyway, only to feel a hand wrap firmly around her wrist and tug her backwards into her seat. "H-Harry?"

He didn't answer but she knew, from the look in his eyes, that he was about to lean forward and kiss her. She pre-empted his move and shuffled herself forward keen to taste his lips again and, as their mouths met in a soft kiss, her hands reached up and cupped his face.

The small, soft kisses blurred into hungrier, more intense ones and, as Ruth's fingers wove through his hair, Harry pressed himself closer to her until she was pushed as far back against the arm of the sofa as her costume allowed. In their passion, both had forgotten about Ruth's attire and it wasn't until, encouraged by her gentle moans and soft whimpers, Harry's hand slipped between them and found only a handful of padding, that they remembered.

He pulled back from their kiss and smiled, his eyes shining as he took in her flushed cheeks and kiss swollen lips. "I think this might be easier without the costume, don't you?" he whispered, seductively.

She nodded, slowly. "Ok, we could, um, upstairs?"

Her jumbled words were phrased as more of a question and Harry gave her a reassuring smile. "Only if you want to, Ruth. We don't have to-"

Her mouth found his again, cutting him off as she kissed him passionately. "I do want to," she mumbled against his lips, "Take me to bed, Harry."

--

As they stood in the middle of the bedroom, she tentatively stretched a hand towards his face, gently running her fingers across his cheeks. "Much better without all that on," she whispered, quietly.

"I'm better without anything on," he teased back, with a murmur. He placed one hand over each of hers and moved them until the draped around his neck, before leaning forward and kissing her soundly. Her fingers stretched out, running through his short hair until she held the back of his head and drove the kiss further and deeper.

His own arms made an attempt to sling themselves low around her waist, pulling their hips into contact, but instead he found his arms stretched wide around her costume and her hips lost somewhere inside it. Undeterred, his fingers sought out some kind of fastening as he occupied his lips with the curve of her neck, the lobe of her ear and eventually, again, her soft, warm mouth.

Without warning, she seemed to pause a fraction in the rhythm of her kisses, and pulled back a little, but he merely sucked against her bottom lip making her momentarily forget herself and fall back into him before moving away from him again.

"Harry, stop."

"You don't want to do it?" It wasn't so much a question as a sad, dejected statement, from a man who wanted nothing more than what had been about to happen.

"No. I mean 'no' to your question…yes I do."

He looked at her quizzically as he deciphered her sentence.

"Ok…"

"It's silly."

"Ruth, please, what's the matter? We've been to the party, the house isn't haunted…talk to me."

"I'm a pumpkin."

"Yes, we've been over that."

"I _know_ but I'm a pumpkin. The first time you're ever going to undress me and it's out of a pumpkin suit." She looked so despondent and embarrassed that it was adorable.

He reached out and tilted her chin up until she met his gaze. "I happen to think you look rather sexy right now, Miss Evershed. It doesn't matter what you're wearing..."

"But-" she protested, meekly, only to be cut off by him.

"…because you're not going to be in it much longer."

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***whistles***

**Please review xx**


	7. Chapter 7

**Oh look, it's December!! At least we're finally finished!**

**Thanks to everyone that has read and reviewed.**

***rating increase*  
**

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He moved swiftly, his nimble fingers finding first the catch and then the zip of her outfit. He peeled the thick fabric down her body until it was low enough for her to step out of all together. His eyes swept appreciatively over her semi-naked form before he pulled her into his arms and kissed her once more. "Better?" he murmured, between kisses.

"Much," she whispered, hotly, against his mouth, seconds before tongues and lips collided again in passion. Her hands slid onto his waist before moving up and under his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders until he got the hint and moved his arms to let it fall to the floor.

His hands smoothed over the small of her back, caressing over silky tights as broad fingers gently squeezed her bottom and pulled her body against his. A thumb carefully tucked itself into the lycra waistband, peeling it downwards until he could feel warm skin and soft cotton beneath it.

"Lie on the bed," he commanded, softly, nudging his legs against hers until she walked backwards and did as he asked.

His hand smoothed upwards from her ankles, tracing circles across silky calves and tickling the skin at the backs of her knees and the insides of her thighs, running his fingers in patterns until she whimpered, loudly and began to help herself out of the restrictive material.

Two strong hands grasped her wrists, and moved them out of the way before tugging at the waistband. He pulled them slowly, the material rolling as it descended her legs, gliding against her skin as his eyes kept themselves locked with hers. As they reached her knees, she felt him bend her right leg, sweeping the material downwards as he finally lowered his head and let his lips connect with her ghostly skin, kissing across the inside of her thigh as his hands fumbled to locate and remove her other leg from the lycra. Her moan was a mixture of delight and frustration as his mouth followed the line of her underwear all the way from her inner thigh to her hip where his teeth played with the elastic of her underwear.

"Nuh –uh," she managed to grunt between shuddering breaths and reached down to guide him back up to her. He hovered over her expectantly, waiting to see what she would do. "You're wearing too many clothes," she said, seriously, as her hands set to work on his shirt buttons. Her fingers trailed against his warm, solid chest as she moved her hands under his now parted shirt pushing upwards until the cotton slipped over his shoulders and down his arms. He moved to kneel astride her, tugging his arms free of the shirt and throwing it on the floor.

"How's that?" he whispered.

"Better," she conceded, raising her hands to his shoulders as she pushed his willing body to the mattress, following with him until she lay along his body and their legs tangled together. She pressed her lips against his before skimming them along his jaw and down his neck. Raising her body upwards, she let her open mouth begin to wander across the bare expanse of his steadily rising chest, towards his navel, letting her tongue experience the taste of his exposed skin as her fingers skimmed up and down the side of his torso. He swore, quietly, as she moved lower, pushing down the waistband of his trousers a little but, for the moment, steadfastly refusing to unbuckle his belt and remove them; only when he growled a little, in frustration, did she finally oblige.

She pulled the leather strap out of its metal buckle with slow, teasing speed, 'accidentally' brushing her hand against him on more than one occasion, enjoying how is body shuddered at her touch.

"Ruth," he moaned, as she refused to hurry her actions, and slid down the zip with such tantalisingly slow movements that he wanted to cry out in frustration. She pretended to ignore him, but as he slightly craned his neck, he could see the mischief on her face as she continued. He was about to comment again at her cheek when he felt the curl of her fingers finally begin to peel both his boxers and trousers away from his hips and inch them over his straining erection.

She couldn't help the audible tremble in her breathing; her heart seemed to be careering around her chest in a reckless manner, reminding her, as it did so, of how reckless she was being. She paused a moment, and reached out, almost as if unsure, before trailing a finger along the length of him, but the certainty with which she then wrapped her hand around him, after he moaned his approval, seemed to quash any hesitation which had momentarily surfaced.

She watched in fascination as his eyes fluttered shut and his back arched as her hand moved against him. She kept the strokes intentionally light, wanting to savour the moment, to enjoy the feel of him in her hand, and to watch the pleasure and frustration mingle together on his face. It was an intense combination and she felt light headed and powerful all at once in the knowledge that, for now at least, she was the one in charge. He moaned her name, softly, when she increased the tempo and, delighted at his response, she saw fit to reward him with a sweep of her tongue across the head of his penis. On the third touch of her tongue she felt strong hands clasping her shoulders and obligingly lifted her head to look at him.

"I'll be of no use to you if you carry on like that," he murmured, as he smiled appreciatively at her. Taking the hint she crawled back up his body, until she was close enough to snake her tongue out across his bottom lip, licking it softly in order to coax his mouth open.

He obliged, willingly, sliding his tongue into her mouth as his hands smoothed gently over the contours of her back, pushing away the material of her cotton pants and running slightly roughened palms against her delicate buttocks. He pulled her body upwards and against him and she made no hesitation in grinding against him as he repeatedly kissed across her face and neck.

She was unprepared for the sudden move he made, and without warning, found herself pinned beneath him, his weight pressing against her slightly until he shifted his body and settled back into the rhythm of kisses he was intent on raining across the top of her chest. A hand brushed gently across her simple bra, enough to send a small shiver through her and let him know that she had liked it; without hesitation, he lowered the cup and repeated the action on bare skin, raising his head to watch her face as he did so. Bowing his head to kiss her once more, he let his thumb trace graduated circles around her nipple as his other hand lightly massaged the swell of her hip and the top of her thigh.

Her breathing was heavy against his ear as he kissed around her jaw, and he knew that the combination of his hands and his mouth were making her dizzy with sensation, and the knowledge spurred him all the more to make her lost to the intensity of everything.

She sensed the movement of his arm before she could register what he was doing and a low, open mouthed moan marked the moment his hand slipped between them and pressed firmly against her. His fingers slid against her wetness teasing, and tormenting her until she was writhing against him with need.

"H-Harry-" Whatever she had been about to say was silenced as he chose that exact moment to cover her mouth with his and dip his finger inside her. His finger moved in time with his tongue and she kissed him back hungrily, spurring him on all the more, until it was no longer enough and he replaced his finger with his throbbing erection. He tore his mouth from hers and raised himself on one forearm as he slowly guided his length inside her. Her mouth fell open in a silent groan of gratification and her back arched as her hips raised up to meet him. It was too much and not enough all at once.

The curve of her neck exposed itself to him and he sucked hungrily against the pale skin of the underside of her jaw. Her nails found the arch of his shoulders and, as he pushed himself deeper, they curled into firm muscle and gripped him tightly; she was rewarded with a bruising mark on otherwise perfect skin, and this time the moan which left her mouth was nowhere near as silent as the first.

She felt his smile against her skin before his mouth was moving against her, travelling higher, and his lips were at her ear, pinching the lobe between his teeth a little. A long "mmmmmm," of gratification, which sent a shudder through her, reverberated gently against the side of her face and she turned her head to catch his lips and lock them between her own, teeth clashing, tongues fighting to find each other, as Harry quickened the pace of his efforts. Her hands seemed to take on their own free reign, touching and smoothing over all the skin within her reach, up into his hair and back across his body in ever less predictable patterns as she lost the will or the want to think straight anymore.

She clutched one hand against his taught buttock, pulling him as close to her as possible, still finding it wasn't enough. Her back arched up to him and her head fell away as she teetered on the edge, desperate to topple over it and desperate to hang on all at once. He shifted slightly in response, grinding against her with each stroke until the feel of her beginning to pulse around him more tightly, more regularly, had him bowing his mouth to hers and sucking hard on her bottom lip as she mewled and cried, her face contorting with pleasure. He pushed into her again, faster and harder as he chased his own release. She pulsed around him with every stroke he made and as the blood rushed through his veins he could feel the telltale tingling spread throughout him. Once, twice more and then he was crying out, a coarse shout of her name followed by a rush of swearing as he spilled inside her. Her arms wrapped firmly around his back and held his slick body tightly against hers as his head dropped to her shoulder in exhaustion. One hand freed itself and reached up to toy with the damp hair at the nape of his neck as they lay together recovering from their intense coupling.

"Harry?" she said, breaking the stillness that had settled around them.

He raised his head lazily and looked at her. "Mmmm?"

"I love you."

He smiled softly and leant in to brush his mouth with hers before shifting slightly and rolling them both on to their sides. "Love you too," he murmured as he watched her through heavy lidded eyes, "Pumpkin."

She groaned, loudly, and rolled her eyes at him. "I'm never going to live it down am I?"

"No. It really was a wonderfully ridiculous outfit that I think only you could get away with."

"It was all they had left!" she told him, indignantly, and playfully attempted to push him away from her body. A small tussle ensued which ensured she remained firmly within the circle of his arms and was followed by a series of ever deepening kisses. "If this is the reward I get for dressing up I might have to do it more often," she whispered between kisses and was surprised to find herself suddenly flipped onto her back with a very interested looked Harry looming over her.

"I like the sound of that," he teased, "anything particular in mind?"

She threw her head back and laughed, throatily. "Well, Christmas isn't that far away..."

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**A final review would be lovely :-) **


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